#I have so many thoughts about them in high school

[bokutosbabe]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

( bllk boys when your secret relationship is leaked by paparazzi)

a/n — wrote this on a whim after listening to peace by taylor swift

content — some nsfw but not explicit, fem! reader, cursing , all characters are 18 or 18+, slight ooc maybe?, some characters are repeated

synopsis — what happens when your relationship is leaked?

⋆.˚✮����✮˚.⋆ ' i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' everyone thought you'd broken up '

listen, you knew dating a good soccer player in high school was a big deal, but you didn't realize how big of a deal it really was when he went pro.

this was the same boy ( now man) that you'd been dating since you were 14, so nothing really changed your views on him. if you could love him through his awkward phase, and he could love you through yours, there was no way you'd break up.

again, you didn't realize that your relationship was such a big deal. it wasn't that the two of you were a secret, it was more of a 'private not secret' situation.

so when the two of you woke up in your shared bed because of just how many notifications the both of you were getting, you knew something was up.

and low and behold, something was wrong. when you opened any social media the first thing you saw was a strangely amazing photo of you and your long-term boyfriend kissing. really, if it wasn't a paparazzi photo, it would be your lock screen.

"aren't we just the cutest?" he asked you, phone thrown back onto his bedside table as if he didn't have a care in the world. (and he really didn't, not in this case)

truly, the only thing that may make him angry in this whole situation is the fact that he got woken up far earlier than his usual routine by all the commotion.

but of course, as he was dozing back off, you were reading the comments, as any loyal significant other would.

soccerluvr45: omg is that is gf from high school? i thought they broke up

okay, yeah. he had a rather public instagram account in high school that his rabid fans had found that had pictures of the two of you, but you'd never broken up?

reading through the many comments, it was like everyone had collectively decided the two of you'd broken up.

"mhm...just ignore it. the pr lady will deal with it." he mumbled as he grabbed your phone from your hands, laying it beside his before wrapping his arms around you.

"go to bed, 's too early to deal with all this."

his fans were silly, if they could see you with this bed-head man right now, they'd see there was no way the two of you would ever break up.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, yo hiori, NIJIRO NANASE, hyoma chigiri

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' pr nightmare '

anyone who knew your boyfriend knew he was...a little extreme.

and unfortunately for you, this also applied when your relationship became public because of a slight slip of focus from the two of you. it wasn't that you were trying to keep your relationship a secret, you'd already been together a year now, but you also weren't trying to out yourselves.

yet, one singular minute when the two of you slipped away to the bathroom together at a soccer banquet...well lets just say a paparazzi was scarily ready to snap someone, anyone's, photo.

so here you were, sitting in a terrifyingly big office with your boyfriend and almost his entire management team.

"do you know what this could do to your reputation?" his manager asked. "it's just two adults doing adult things, they should've been in that bathroom! that would've gotten them—"

"okay, sir..."the pr woman cut him off, ever too enthusiastic to be talking about your private lives.

"you just need to ignore all of this until it goes away, alright? no press interviews after games anymore," she sighed as if this was basic comprehension. (your boyfriend wasn't the smartest but he also didn't need to be treated like an idiot.) "and no posting on any social medias for the time being. do you understand?"

"yeah, yeah. no talking to the grown men after games. and..."he grimaced at the thought of his next condition. " c'mon is posting on my socials that bad? i don't post about us anyways."

"at. all." and the room felt as icy as the pr woman's stare.

"yeah, no, okay i got it. no social media."

after another thirty minutes of this, with them saying basically the same stuff to you (even though you had no real social media presence anyways), you guys finally left.

"no fucking posting? what if i have to talk about a game coming up?" "i'm sure she knows how to do her job, love." you soothed your boyfriend as you got in the car the company arranged to have you two taken up with.

"yeah, well whatever. give me your hand," and who were you to say no to your boyfriend?

he took your hand and placed it on his neck, a place where you could see a few bites and hickeys if you really looked hard enough.

before you could protest he took a picture, posting it on his VERY public account with the caption...

' i love my woman ;) '

before turning off his phone completely.

"let's see them try to get ahold of me now."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RYUSEI SHIDO, tabito karasu, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' what picture ? '

how do two chronically offline people realize their relationship is now under scrutiny by the entire world?

the simple answer is...they don't!

you've never been interested in social media the way other girls your age had been. really, you'd rather just watch a video essay on every little topic that interests you than sit and watch six second videos then scroll all day.

to say the least, fast and forever changing social media just wasn't your thing.

and your boyfriend? he hardly even used his phone. unless it was for business or you, the thing was practically shoved away somewhere he couldn't care less about.

he would rather be reading or spending time with you out on a date...which is exactly the predicament the paparazzi put you in earlier this week.

the two of you were photographed having a little picnic and reading date at a small park that was pretty far out of town, assuming no one there knew, or even cared, enough to take a picture, but alas, someone did.

you and he had spent the rest of your week in pure, relaxed bliss. he had a game on saturday, so besides him going to practice and working out, the two of you stayed inside almost all week to prepare for the rather hectic weekend.

to say the game was a nail biter would be the understatement of the century. after two additional times, it was your boyfriend who scored the winning goal.

of course, you cheered the loudest, not noticing plenty of fans eyes on you unlike how many used to just chalk you up as an ecstatic fan.

as the post game interview came for him, you decided to stay closer to the door just incase it ran short. sometimes it was a one and done for him and others the questions went on for at least fifteen minutes, it just depended on his mood.

of course, the first question was about his game winning goal, but the second one threw him and you for a loop.

" what do you have to say about the photos of you and your reported girlfriend that have come out this past week? "

"...huh? what photos?"

eventually, the two of you did see the pictures, and all you could do was laugh because...how had you two not found out about this?

and you also made the picture your phone lock screen, but he didn't have to know that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RIN ITOSHI, reo mikage, SAE ITOSHI, chigiri hyoma

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

i wrote this in about an hour, and i think it shows but i had to get it out of my brain :))

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[rogueemmy]

There is a general lack of understanding of how computers work - one that tips strongly towards ignorance at each end of the age scale. Not phones or tablets and the like, but a "desktop" or laptop computer. This is not an attack on older or younger people, but it is a fact - one which makes people MORE dependent of easily manipulated data sources.

I've watched the rise and fall of computer literacy. In older people it is understandable to a certain extent. When the personal computer became common place, it was the playground of children, a time waster for teens, and a select few people used computers at work. Even as those numbers grew, most people who were adults in the mid-90s and beyond only needed a computer for specific tasks they were trained for. Thousands of blue collar jobs either did not use computers at all, or used them only as an interface to select between functions.

I did, in fact, learn computers in school. To a certain extent. They were still becoming common-place, so I had courses in high school and college - both times. I learned from other people, we learned as computers developed - and we filled in the gaps because people needed to know this to be employable.

My child, however, did not. Sure, she had computer lab as early as preschool, and I thought she was learning what I did. But no. She learned programs, she learned how to be comfortable with a computer, but they did not teach about where to save files, how a computer works, what all the numbers and letters mean. She, and her young cousins, can run a phone or tablet like a Mozart on a piano. But a computer?

I've trained many first-real-job-out-of-college kids young adults, and the school systems (and parents) have failed them. They do not know what a file is, where a drive is, how to navigate without an app to click. They don't know where their files they save go, they have no understanding of how full a hard drive may be, and they don't know why the computer stops working.

While I'm at it, they also have zero experience with desk phones. A dial tone is not a thing they've encountered. Hold buttons, transfers, and voice mail. These are things that MUST be taught, now, at the workplace level, because they are not learning them before they come.

So it's little wonder that the computer world is dumbing down what they are selling. They are simply trying to market to the knowledge level. There's so much being lost! If you are a parent, please, take the time to teach your kids these things. If you are under 30, please ask someone to teach you, take a class, do online tutorials! This "simple" knowledge will skyrocket you past your peers in the workplace.

not to enforce gender roles but a computer should NOT fucking have apps okay. if I wanted an app I'd go on my phone my laptop is for Programs. I mean this.

[ladymoody]

SATURDAY NIGHT

lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw +18, childhood friends concept, teasing in public, explicit and suggestive language, dirty talk, v rubbing, blowjob, p in v penetration (unprotected), creampie, cum in general.

word count: 3,7k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist ; playlist ; characters list ; my website

the clock struck 8pm. I won’t lie saying I wasn’t nervous, because I was, I was very nervous.

my parents had recently become in touch with enzo’s parents again after 5 years of no communication, so now I was getting ready in my room to hang out with them.

enzo and I met when we were kids. he was slightly older than me but we were both in elementary school. our parents immediately became friends so we started hanging out quite often.

enzo had always been very sweet with me but also a pain in the ass. since we were kids, we often argued and we almost even hit each other once. though, I cared about him and I guess he cared about me too. through time enzo and I grew up and became distant — we stopped playing together and we began to hang out once every two months at best.

once we started high school, we lost touch and so did our parents.

I often thought about him. I quite missed his presence as he had filled a good part of my childhood memories. the only thing I had left of him was a necklace he got me the last time we hung out — it had a little swan as a charm and I was completely in love with it. I found myself touching it every now and then, in an attempt to feel enzo’s presence with me again.

“y/n! are you ready, honey?” my mom called out from outside — she was already in the car.

“I’m coming!” I said out of the window, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

I glanced at myself in the mirror one more time to check if I looked good. I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to look good. then I grabbed my purse and headed out fidgeting my house keys.

once outside, I closed the door behind me, I locked it, and then I spotted my parent’s car. I saw my father looking at me up and down through the window, his gaze not much approving of my outfit — I was wearing a fancy black dress, elegant and delicate. it was quite long, but not too long, and had a wide neckline that showed my cleavage and my boobs which perfectly sat there.

I approached their car and got in. “hi.”

my father sighed, almost sounding like he grunted. my mom, on the other hand, turned around and smiled at me. “are you excited?”

“a bit, yeah.”

“enzo will have turned into a handsome man by now, don’t you think?” she teased.

“mom.” I warned.

“just saying.”

my dad started the car and I put my headphones on, ready to get lost in my fantasy world as I watched the real one out of my window.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I did feel something odd in my stomach… like butterflies? impossible. enzo and I had only been friends and nothing else. besides he wasn’t even my type — for what I could remember from the last time we met. I sighed and accepted the fact the hangout would have been quite awkward.

(skip time)

my dad pulled over and we all got out of the car. the light of the streetlights surrounding me caught my attention, making me look up and see the dark sky of the night. I loved that feeling.

“cover up.” my dad walked past me looking down at my cleavage. I knew my dress wasn’t so appropriate, but I didn’t have many dresses in my closet.

I grabbed my purse and closed the car door before following my parents into the bar where my and enzo’s parents agreed on meeting.

the bar from the outside looked really good — there were a few glass tables and small dark red armchairs probably made of velvet. there were some people already, drinking and chatting, and enjoying each other’s company. the dim lights were placed on the tables, followed by some candles as well, creating a cozy and elegant atmosphere for the whole bar.

my parents walked in first, making me snap back to reality. I followed them inside, realizing the big moment had come. my eyes lazily roamed over the room scanning it to spot enzo and his parents, but they weren’t there yet. we decided to get back out and sit at one of the tables outside that I had previously spotted. as we settled down, my mom spoke.

“are you nervous?”

in the meantime, I calmed down. I mean, it was just a reunion, right?

“I’m fine, actually.” I replied nonchalantly, both because it was a bit true, and because I still needed to convince myself of it.

(skip time)

I looked at my watch on my left wrist, which showed it was already 9:45pm. the meeting should’ve been at 9:30, but I let out a huff.

before I could complain to my parents, who were busy on their phones, my attention shifted to the three figures approaching us from afar — enzo and his parents.

his mom and dad still looked the same, slightly older, obviously. and enzo… wait, that was enzo? he looked way taller than the last time, his hair was still brown but he had changed haircut as it seemed more like a sort of mullet with a few strands falling down on his forehead, he was grinning and looking in our direction as he got closer, making me appreciate his outfit as well — his black t-shirt amazingly hugged his torso, highlighting his abs and chest, long black pants fell down his legs matching his t-shirt, and the shoes as well, but not his belt which was brown and silvery.

oh my goodness.

I would’ve said it wasn’t him, but the way he was smirking with his eyes made me recognize him without a doubt. that was my childhood friend lorenzo berkshire.

“my god, hi.” my mother stood up hugging enzo’s mom. my father stood up too, saying hi to his dad and shaking his hand. enzo stared at me as I stared at him back. he nodded as if he wanted to say hi to me as well, and I smiled in return.

“you grew up so much!” my mom caressed enzo’s cheek, making him slightly blush. enzo glanced at the ground, trying his best to seem polite in dodging my parents’ touching. after that, enzo’s parents’ attention turned to me, admiring how I had grown up as well. (I will let up on this for your sake).

we all sat down around the table, the seats felt so comfortable. my and enzo’s parents started talking, happy to finally meet each other again, as enzo looked at me — I felt his eyes wandering on my figure so much that it seemed like his gaze was burning my skin. after a couple of seconds, I looked up, seeing his eyes, which shifted quickly from my cleavage to meet mine. I smiled and he smiled back, rubbing the back of his head. as he did so, I could finally have a better look at his silver bracelet that made his wrist look delicate and sexy.

“hey.” he broke the silence, he was sitting right next to me.

“hi.” I said back, eyeing him up a bit.

“how’s your life going?” he asked as he propped his head on his hand and turned his attention to me.

“good, good… yours?”

“same.” he eyed me back up, scanning my figure in my tight dress. his tongue licked his upper lip subtly.

our conversation went going for half an hour and it was totally awkward. not because enzo and I had nothing to talk about, but because I kept feeling his gaze on me all the time — every single movement I did, even the slightest, he looked. to finally break the moment was enzo’s mother.

“you grew up so much… I still remember you playing with my enzo at the playground.” she said with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. I smiled at her words. she had always been so sweet.

in the meantime we had already ordered our drinks — enzo had ordered some martini and I had decided to get the same. the bartender brought the beverages to us a few minutes later and we started sipping them as I kept sharing words with enzo’s parents.

“do you have a boyfriend now?” enzo asked me. his voice had lowered a bit not to let our parents hear us too much as they began to talk to each other once again, shifting their attention away from us two.

“no. do you have a girlfriend?”

“no.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I couldn’t understand why, but I felt relieved by the news of him still being single. I felt… possessive over him? as we kept chatting I couldn’t help letting my eyes fall on his hands several times as he gestured while speaking, even his hands grew up with him — they were veiny now, bigger than the last time we saw each other, and each finger had at least one ring.

“you sure you’re single? no guy drooling over you?” he said out of the blue, his eyebrows furrowed, interrupting the speech he was giving a few seconds before.

“yeah, I’m sure. what’s wrong?” I chuckled.

“I hardly believe a pretty thing like you hasn’t got a nice boyfriend.”

“well, guess what...” I sarcastically spoke and we both laughed.

but then he suddenly stopped, becoming all serious as his eyes stayed on me. I looked at him with a confused expression and I calmed down, finishing to laugh as well.

“I’m glad to hear that. you’re still my friend, aren’t you?” he spoke lowly, marking the word ‘my’ with his voice while his hand wandered on my bare thigh.

I nodded, not understanding what was happening. his touch gave me shivers.

he backed up, now fully focusing on my parents who started asking him questions, yet his hand stayed on my thigh — his thumb caressed my skin every now and then as his other fingers squeezed it.

I didn’t know what to think of it but I definitely enjoyed his touch and I didn’t want him to stop whatever he had in mind.

(skip time)

as the night went on, we all found each other more comfortable than at the beginning. but for each passing minute, enzo’s hand slid upper and upper. suddenly, when I was chatting with his father, his hand touched the hem of my dress, tugging at it, and slightly sneaking under the fabric to brush against my panties.

I tried to hold back a gasp, but I couldn’t do anything with the light blush that spread across my cheeks. I tried to push his hand away, but the harder I tried, the further he went until he completely felt my panties under his fingers.

enzo abruptly pulled his hand away, stood up, and he spoke to his and my parents.

“I’m going to smoke.” he picked up his lighter with his right hand while his left one still wandered in his pocket to find the pack of cigarettes.

“your father and I told you to quit, lorenzo.” his mother intervened.

“I will, I promise.” he grinned as he walked away to find a place to enjoy his cigarette.

“would you fancy keeping him company?” his mother changed her tone, sounding sweeter as she spoke to me.

“sure.” I nodded excitedly, hinting a smile as I stood up to follow him. 

I made a little run to reach him, and he slightly turned back but once he spotted me with the corner of his eye, he drew his attention back in front of him.

“your parents let you smoke?”

“I ain’t a kid anymore, aren’t I?” he replied with a cocky smirk. “but they don’t like when I do it.”

I nodded as silence fell between us again and we headed behind a wall, I leaned my back against it and enzo stood in front of me.

“you still have the necklace I got you when we were kids?” he noticed, gazing at my cleavage.

“yeah.”

“it looks good on your boobs.”

“excuse me?”

“I said it looks good with your hoops. your earrings.” he said, but I swore I had heard something else.

“you think they match?”

“yeah.” I could tell he was not staring at my necklace, but he was looking a little lower. though, I decided not to push it further and we kept chatting for a bit until he finished his cigarette.

“did I tell you I’ve got myself a car?” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

“no, you didn’t.. have you really?”

“yup. wanna see it?”

“ ‘course.”

he tilted his head in the direction of his car and looked at me before we started walking. “I drove my parents here.” he boasted a bit.

“damn, you’ve really grown into a gentleman.” I complimented him, being a bit sarcastic. but he was indeed a gentleman, a sexy gentleman if I might say.

we walked a few more meters before approaching his gorgeous dark red car.

“wow…”

“the insides are even better, come on.” he said as he picked up his keys and threw them up in the air, before catching them with a smooth movement and making his way to open his gem.

“it won’t bite you.” he said as he got into the driver’s seat. I smiled and got in as well.

I admired the insides and as he said, they were indeed beautiful and looked quite luxurious.

“did you pay a lot of money for this gem?”

“uhm… let’s just say that I worked hard for it.” he smirked, leaning against the seat.

“wanna spice this up a bit?” he suddenly suggested as he moved his head to face me. his eyes fell on my cleavage for what seemed like the millionth time that night, before shifting back on mine.

“spice this up?” I echoed slightly confused, tilting my head towards one side. though I knew what he meant by that, I just enjoyed playing dumb.

“yeah, with some music.”

“uhm, sure, why not.” I smirked and he turned the radio on.

(I recommend playing this while reading. check my playlist)

“I like this song.” I spoke.

“yeah?” he spoke back, staring at my lips. I smirked to myself as I noticed how he was not concentrating on what I had just said at all.

“mh-hum.” I nodded as I shifted completely on my seat, facing him with my body as well. I gazed at his lips too.

“would you like to know an interesting fact about this car?”

“yeah.”

“well, it’s soundproof.”

and there I did 2+2. I knew what he had in mind and he was planning on it from the real beginning.

“soundproof, mh?” I smirked. “and how is it useful to you?”

his smirk got wider as he leaned in and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“you’ve grown into a really gorgeous woman, you know that?” he looked at me with a darker gaze, his voice slightly above a whisper.

“I saw you swinging your hips and showing off your little ass as we walked. I immediately understood the innocent little girl I once knew was completely gone.”

my eyes widened for less than a second, before turning back seductive as I listened to him.

“and that little girl, who’s now a menacing woman, enjoined my previous playing on her thigh, didn’t she?” he continued,  his smirk never leaving his face.

“you were crazy for doing that in front of our parents.”

“you didn’t complain.”

“I tried to push your hand away.”

“you didn’t try hard enough.”

“how do you know that?”

“because I know damn well you liked my fingers on your skin, squeezing it and slowly going upwards. I could feel that you were into it… your panties were soaked, doll.”

I sighed. continuing to pretend would’ve been useless. I almost jumped on him, my hands finding his jaw as I held his face close enough to capture his lips in a fierce kiss. he happily wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me onto his lap as he kissed me back. our lips moved so passionately that I moaned every other second.

“fuck, baby… that was what I wanted…” he panted between kisses.

“you taste so good…” I moaned.

“let’s keep kissing then…” he groaned back as we heavily made out. his hand slipped under my dress, finding my drenched panties once again. he rubbed my pussy against the fabric, making me squirm on him, and let out desperate yet muffled moans against his lips.

“fuck… you are completely soaked.” he panted after his hand slid into my underwear — his middle finger rubbed my folds at a slow and sexual pace.

“ughh— mhh..” I clang onto him, my nails dug into his shoulders.

enzo pulled his hand away, leaving me needy of his touch, before starting to kiss me again. I kissed him back as my hand glided from his lower chest to his belt, and then I tugged at it, making him chuckle.

“someone’s impatient?” he teased, leaving some lazy kisses on my jaw.

I hummed in response, backing up enough to give room to my hands and undo his belt. enzo bit his bottom lip.

he lifted his hips up to let me pull his pants down, but without warning, I took his boxers off as well. he let out a low gasp, followed by a groan as he saw his hard cock popping out and standing right there for me. I smirked and immediately crawled back to my seat, before bending over and kissing his tip.

enzo threw his head back and shut his eyes, while my hand stroked his erection up and down and my mouth sucked on his leaking tip.

“ohh just like that…” he grabbed my hair, pulling it almost painfully, and forced me to go all my way down. I slightly gagged but quickly got myself together as I sucked on his dick completely, my lips touching his balls.

I could feel my throat giving me signals that I needed to pull out, but I couldn’t, I was making enzo feel too good.

“ughh! mhh— baby!” he jerked his hips upwards, trying to meet my movements.

I kept going for some minutes until I heard him groan and moan underneath me, so I understood he was getting close. I fastened my pace, trying to satisfy his needs, and in a matter of seconds, he spurted his seed down my throat.

“swallow… go on… swallow…” he encouraged me, panting heavily as he pulled my head back and watched me swallow his cum. I looked at him, not breaking the eye contact as I tasted him on my tongue, meanwhile, he watched me with an arrogant, yet affectionate gaze as his seed dripped down the corners of my mouth.

“backseat. now.” he smirked and pecked my lips, tasting himself on them. I happily moved into the back of the car, laying down on the seats as I watched him do the same thing and lay on top of me.

“you’re so beautiful… you’ve grown so well… fuck…” he groaned kissing my neck like a starved man — but suddenly he pulled away and his hands rushed on him to pull down his pants and boxers fully.

I bit my lip at the sight and in the meantime, I helped him taking his shirt off. he smirked, enjoying how I was as eager as him, and once his clothes were out of the way, he helped me undress as well.

“open up…” he arrogantly spread my legs, making me wrap them around his waist as he lined up against my core. “mhh…” I let out, my nails already digging into his back as I pulled him close to me.

“so wet… I bet you’re so tight too…” he said as he rubbed the tip of his erection back and forth against my folds.

“why don’t you go ahead and see yourself?” I teased him, smirking as I stole him kisses.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard.” he said, his teeth clenched.

suddenly he thrust in. I let out a moan mixed with a gasp as I felt my walls adjust to his size. He hissed, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he slowly started to grind his hips against mine.

“fuck, baby… ohh god…” he groaned in my ear — his thrusts becoming more and more urgent.

I knew our parents were wondering where we were or what we were doing, but enzo’s dick was all I could focus on at that moment. I felt it throbbing inside of me, eager to hit every good spot and make me come undone underneath him.

“ugh— keep going!” I encouraged him as I dug my nails into his back, scratching his skin and making enzo suck in air through his teeth multiple times.

my moans only fueled his hunger, his willingness to come inside of me, and I couldn’t help but give them to him all the time as he pistoned fast and hard. we didn’t worry about using a condom, we didn’t think about it and we didn’t even discuss it — we were too lost in the moment to mention that. I knew I wasn’t on birth control, but my paranoia could’ve waited. enzo was more important.

“ohh, baby! I’m close… please…” his eyebrows furrowed in a blissful expression, letting me know he was indeed getting close.

as his thrusts became more uneven, I began to realize I was getting close too. he was going rough, maybe too rough for me to handle him, and I could feel my body burning due to his harshness, but then I felt it. I felt my orgasm coming.

“enzo!” I cried out, arching my back and throwing my head against the seat. my juices coated his dick, which spurted his hot seed a few seconds later.

enzo grunted in my ear, altering incoherent murmured praises to desperate whimpers. “ohh— baby… god…” he moaned.

I chuckled, my hands caressing his back in a soothing manner.

“you okay?” he asked me, leaving a sweet kiss on my jaw.

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile and he smiled back.

“we should probably get back to our parents…”

“we should.” he smirked. “but they can wait a little more…”

[puppetwoman17]

Let’s talk about what aging would do to Billy’s perception of how he’s acting toward other heroes when he’s taking care of them(yes this is dad Marvel I’m feeding yall today).

When Billy was younger, he just wanted to help. Of course, that doesn’t alter anyone’s perception of Cap as a dad figure, but Billy wasn’t actively trying to take care OF them. All he’s doing is trying to be a helping hand. Someone to listen to others when they just need a good vent.

In his perspective, all he’s doing is being a good friend. Not a mentor, or an older brother, or anything akin to that. Of course, that doesn’t make a difference for younger heroes(or, heroes who perceive themselves as younger than Cap). Or even for some of his League coworkers. Because all of that care is coming from someone who they don’t really know the age of.

He could be in his thirties, or he could be thousands of years old, or he could even be just eleven, manifesting out of pure magic, and with that wisdom.

It’s only as Billy grows older, I’m thinking somewhere between high school junior-college freshman, that he actively starts thinking of himself as that mentor figure. Or, he starts thinking of what he DOES to heroes as being a mentor/older brother figure.

And once he feels more comfortable leaning into that, that’s when he starts reciprocating the affection given to him. I’m talking him saying “I’m proud of you” with that fatherly tone. Him deciding to give hugs instead of others always having to ask(ofc he asks first, our boy cares about consent). And yes, him going as a substitute for parent teacher conferences.

For Billy, it’s always been about being a better parental figure than the many adults who let him down. It’s about learning the dos from his parents and the don’ts from Ebenezer.

Now all the “best dad/brother” mugs make so much sense. Raven following him sometimes. Clark asking for advice on how to handle Jon and rekindle things with Kon. Tbh he feels kind of stupid for not realizing how people thought of him sooner.

Of course, this only amplifies his refusal to reveal his identity. Sheesh, he was gonna introduce himself on Christmas, but what would they all think now?

It’s a complicated thought process of “They deserve to know if I have such an important place in their lives” and “but what if I lose all that respect and relationship?” and “but that would be selfish of me to want to keep that.”

The thought that they might still accept and love him never crosses his mind because no matter how self aware he gets, Billy will always be clueless when it comes to how people perceive him(aka yes, Billy, you are lovable—No, Billy, no one is using you for money, you don’t have that).

[certifiedsexed]

hey there! i don’t mean this in bad faith at all, and i’m not trying to use a term that’s a fascist dogwhistle. i promise i’m just confused😭

so i’m not a guy, nor have i ever been perceived as one, but in one of your recent posts, you said that men can’t experience oppression solely based on the fact that they’re men. which was kind of confusing to me — i don’t think you’re wrong, i think it’s me but i don’t know how to get to how you see it like that.

because in my experience, men can experience oppression because they’re men, although i don’t know if i’m saying that right or conflating the meanings of certain terms. i’m probably wrong, and would just love some clarification?

for example, my brother and i were always held to different standards growing up — it was expected of me to always cry and be emotional, and i was a ‘stone cold bitch’ if that wasn’t the case, but if my brother wanted to show negative emotions like sadness he was treated like there was something wrong with him too. and i know it wasn’t my brother — i spend a lot of time working with my high school’s diversity team, and in a lot of the events we organise, guys talk about how they feel enormous pressure to be angry and never sad, and to have stereotypically masculine interests and never deviate from that norm.

i also know men who’ve struggled to get jobs such as teaching as those are viewed as ‘female’ jobs and it’s a common view that men who want those jobs are ‘only in it to be around kids’. i’ve heard many women around me perpetuate sentiments like that, so i know they’re not making it up, even if it isn’t equal to the systematic oppression women face in almost every aspect of their careers.

i’m not providing these examples to prove you wrong, since i do think you’re right. i’m hoping that a window into the way i’ve always thought might help you clarify this in a way that can help me to change my mind, since i just think i’m lacking some clarity or context here. i think i’m conflating abuse and stereotypes with oppression, but i’m really not sure. any advice would be really appreciated!

i’m so sorry if this comes off badly, i don’t mean it that way. i’m just trying to learn, i promise i’m not trying to promote the kind of hate and close mindedness you’ve been seeing in your inbox as of late.

Hi! As always, I do not mind answering genuine questions!

The things you're talking about growing up and seeing boys around you pressured to present only certain emotions, that's part of the patriarchy!

Certain emotions are supposed to be "feminine" and thus boys shouldn't show them, while girls are often always considered "emotional" in some fashion. That's not oppression based on those boys being men that you're talking about.

It's the backlash that the patriarchy, and by addition trans/misogyny has on men. It's boys being pressured not to show certain emotions because those emotions are "feminine" and they're supposed to associate feminimity with weakness and shit.

What you're talking about there is also trans/misogyny!

The idea that men who do things perceived as feminine are predators, the idea that specific jobs are "female" jobs [while even in those specific female jobs, men are generally paid better and find it easier to get into those jobs than women trying to get into traditionally "male" jobs"]

[Though obviously this varies based on race and whether they're trans, etc, etc.]

To be a little more clear, all of the things you're talking about don't primarily affect cis men/boys. They fuck up transfems, because it's trans/misogyny.

You're right! It's not systemic oppression.

You might wonder if it's social oppression, which is also a no. Social oppression would require a historical/systemic oppression behind it. But that doesn't exist in this case.

What it is is the common issue oppressors run into. While they benefit greatly from oppression, there is also backlash they face from their own systems of oppression.

Like white people who fall into suicide cults trying to work towards white supremacy, or TERFs who fall into groups where they slowly pick each other off as they discover they're not all exactly the same and wind up accusing each other of not being "real" women, systems of bigotry simply do not work out perfectly even for the oppressors.

They never do.

To create the patriarchy, you must establish trans/misogyny, you must establish intersexism and you must push people to conform to those ideals, even if they hurt your own.

It's similar to how white supremacy can harm white people, despite white people obviously not being oppressed racially. The backlash of oppression hits even the oppressors sometimes.

Suppression, as a term, would honestly work far better to describe what you're talking about.

So yes, it's stereotyping, yes it's abusive to tell your children not to show/feel their emotions but it's not oppression based on these guys in your life being men! It's part of how trans/misogyny, transphobia and intersexism are enforced.

I understand exactly where you're coming from! It doesn't sound bad and I genuinely don't mind answering questions! Especially since you've got some good ones!

I'm not sure if I rambled too much to explain this properly but I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions and/or need me to clarify anything here. <33

[phoenixfeathersinfall]

I was intrigued by the idea of Dr. NerdLove and his "advice column for bros" approach, so I decided to check it out and folks....This is so good. Context: In my job, I offer one-on-one coaching to adolescents and young adults who have disabilities to help them meet their goals and transition into adult life/build skills for adulthood. Most of my students right now are young college-aged men (some of whom are in school and some of whom work.) One of the big things I do with them is helping to build and maintain social networks: MAKING FRIENDS!!!! Many of my students are lonely! For some of them, the social networks very much include wanting a partner. They ask me for advice about (usually heterosexual) romantic relationships. As a queer woman who's not much older than them (which is to say, not much relationship experience) I often struggle to know how to answer their questions. I just don't know what it looks like from their point of view. So, I thought something like this might be helpful to point them to. I'm not in the demographic the column is reaching to, but I did grow up in several friend groups where I was one of the only girls, and I had friends who got onto the early stages of that Gamergate/alpha male/incel pipeline. I'm an amateur anthropologist by degree, which means I learned a lot of stuff about how cultures and societies work, how to interview people about complex social problems, and how to make things more equitable for communities that need it. I read and see the same news as the rest of you. I work as a camp counselor for middle and high schoolers in the summers. All of which leads me to reaffirm for you: Our boys are not okay. A scary high number of them are getting exposed to online communities that are misinformed at best and predatory at worst, and they lack the experience to know how to counteract that. The election results are going to be like pouring gasoline on a fire.

Enter Dr. NerdLove. Harris O'Malley tells young men things they need to know and start to internalize, and he does it in a way that is relatable to them, compassionate, and humorous. One of my favorite articles is "What Men Really Need," In it, he talks about the social isolation many men face, how they struggle to get support and connection from their male friends in emotionally fulfilling ways, and how that's devastating for everyone. He also tells them how to be a better friend and change the dynamic.

In other articles, he explains the importance of building confidence, self-care, how to overcome feeling awkward, that looks aren't everything. (again, all in terms a boy who's been lurking around on certain Reddits would understand.) He makes a point to explain what some of the risks of dating and relationships are for women (and how history informs that.)

And yes. He's saying the quiet part out loud (linked text is a news source.)

This is going to help me be better equipped to help my students with something really important to them. I think it's also going to be a protective, positive force for a lot of boys who need it.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[littlestarbigsky]

been thinking long and hard abt soda and what it did to him to drop out of high school (i also feel bad bc somehow the only fics i have abt soda are all ships and i know i can do better for my boy)

so here’s a quick lil thing abt darry and soda after soda dropped out :p

darry couldn’t remember the last time soda had been this upset. even after their parents died, there were moments when the gang was all together and soda could laugh and feel the littlest bit normal again, but this felt like it was never going to end, and there was no reprieve. there was no end in sight, and darry couldn’t do anything to help him.

his grades had been going downhill for a while. it wasn’t his fault, or at least not entirely. it had been years since soda had done alright in school on his own instead of barely scraping by, and at some point the class had left him behind and it was like they started speaking another language.

and then their parents died.

soda already had enough trouble missing one day of school, let alone missing a week while they tried to throw together a funeral.

a month after their parents had died, after far too many nights at the kitchen table crying over math homework, after screaming matches that shook the roof over his grades, after darry had yelled so many times about how failing out of school was a surefire way to get them sent to a boy’s home, soda finally said that he was dropping out of school.

he could barely leave his room after telling darry, he couldn’t even tell ponyboy himself. he didn’t know what to do with himself, battling with his own mind every hour of the day. thoughts bouncing around his head of feeling like a failure for not even being able to graduate high school, bullying himself over not being able to joke around about it or making other people happy, which felt like maybe the only thing he was good at anymore. he knew that he was going to fail out eventually, so what was the point?

“soda?” darry cracked the door open, his eyes landing on his little brother where he had been for the last three days: curled up in bed, his back to the door. “do you want some dinner?”

soda silently shook his head.

darry sighed, “you can’t stay in here, forever, pepsi. we miss you out there.”

soda didn’t give much of a response, just gave a half hearted shrug.

“listen,” darry let himself into the room, sitting down on the bed and bringing a hand up to rub soda’s back. “i know you feel lousy, and i know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but you’ve gotta get back to living, soda. you’ve just gotta. we couldn’t get along without you.”

soda rolled over and sat up, and darry had to swallow a gasp at the state of his brother. soda’s eyes were rubbed raw and angry red from crying with deep shadows stamped under them, his hair was sticking up at all angles from the grease he hadn’t washed out in days, and his clothes were wrinkled and hanging loosely off of him.

“soda…”

darry could hardly get the word out before soda had thrown himself at his big brother, tears starting up again. god, he was so tired of crying.

“i’m so sorry,” he cried miserably, clutching to darry with everything he had in him.

darry felt the tears hit his shoulder and his heart ached for his little brother, “i know, i ain’t mad at you, honey.”

“mom and dad just wanted me to graduate and i couldn’t even do that! how am i supposed to do anything if i can’t do that?” soda sobbed.

“they’re not mad at you either, baby, don’t say that,” darry could feel tears prickling in his own eyes.

“listen, i don’t care if you’re lyin’ to me,” soda leaned back, his eyes not meeting darry’s. “but can you please tell me it’s gonna be okay.”

darry felt like he had missed a step going down stairs with the way the words made his stomach drop. he grabbed soda’s face in his hands and forced his brother to look at him.

“it’s gonna be okay, baby. i don’t know when and i don’t know how but i promise you, we’re gonna be okay. i’m gonna make sure we are.”

he wasn’t sure soda believed him, and maybe he didn’t even fully believe himself, but he had made a promise, and he had every intention of making good on it. some of the tension soda had been holding in his shoulders seemed to melt away, and darry knew he would be okay with saying everything over and over again if it meant soda didn’t have to be so scared.

“thank you… i know you hate lying to us.”

“i wasn’t lying.”

[iinryer]

a little scene prompt game to get me writing!

from @eddiesgaymustache : prompt 2 cheddy boogaloo: 10, 📚😁🥂

bonus visuals if you want to know how i picture them [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

—

[📚😁🥂 + cheddy + 10: spooning at night]

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Teddy looks up from the glass she’s pouring, blinks at Chuck, blinks again, and says, “What,”

Chuck blinks back at her, stalling out like they’re playing back what they said, before suddenly snorting into their drink and having to hold a hand under their chin to save their shirt from falling victim to rogue rosé.

Teddy watches them fondly, raising her brow and waiting for Chuck to try again.

“No, wait, not like—,” Chuck laughs, waving their hand like they’re clearing the question from the record, “I meant like… when you were little, who did you think you were going to be?”

Teddy shakes her head, endeared, and says faux-wistfully, “I dunno. I think as a kid I always envisioned myself getting to go by Teo when I left home,”

Teo, unfortunately, did not fly. Not only was it deemed too boyish by her mom, but it was also her Abuelo’s nickname of choice—who she was named after, by the way. So it was either nothing or Dora—which, to this day, still makes her feel like she’s breaking out in hives. Teddy came later though, when she ran track in high school. One of the girls she got close with that year called out to her with it during practice, and it just stuck. It’s not Teo, but she’s grown quite fond of it.

At the mention of the name, though, Chuck brightens, straightening up from where they’d been trying to set the bottle and nearly empty glass safely on the floor from the bed, and says, so earnestly it’s almost comical, “I call you Teo!”

Teddy barks out a laugh. Okay. So Chuck is maybe a little deeper into the bottle of rosé than she is. She just nods, acquiescing, “You sure do, rockstar,”

Chuck just tips their head—followed by their torso—to the side like it weighs too much, grinning from ear to ear. They end up toppling down the rest of the way, the side of their face smushed into the pillow at Teddy’s hip.

They grin up at Teddy, body folded awkwardly but looking pleased as punch about it, before scrunching up their nose and saying, “Okay, for real this time. What did little Teodora Vásquez want to be when she grew up?”

Teddy makes a face, and flicks Chuck’s forehead, “Don’t government-name me, you ass,”

Laughter bubbles up from their chest, followed by a snort that should really be unflattering, but somehow never is.

“Dunno,” Teddy eventually sighs, wine-heavy in her own way, absently curling her finger through an errant lock of Chuck’s hair, “I think I always thought I’d be a doctor or something like that. Something helpful,”

Chuck’s eyes, glazed and unfocused with alcohol, go wide and adoring, “You are. You are helpful,”

Teddy hums on a smile. Takes a prolonged sip from her glass.

“And! You’ll be even more helpful once you pass your paramedic cert next month,” they add, conspiratorially, nodding over at the textbooks that Teddy abandoned on the nightstand earlier in the evening, like it’s a sure thing. Their confidence always makes Teddy’s heart feel warm and full, “and that’s like, basically a doctor, right? Look at you! Growing up to be the thing you wanted,”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Teddy snorts, then sighs. It is a thought she’s had in the past. That maybe all the time she spent in and out of hospitals growing up would actually land her somewhere good. Somewhere useful. Worthwhile.

“You’re the coolest,” Chuck adds, one uncoordinated finger coming up to poke Teddy in the chin.

Or maybe it just landed her here, who-knows-how-many glasses of wine deep into Chuck’s mattress, during a 48-off. Heavy, slow. Happy.

Maybe, somehow, it’s the same thing.

“Yeah yeah, says the Wunderkind,” Teddy laughs, swatting the hand out of her face before she finally wiggles her way to slide down further against the headboard, getting settled with her cheek in hand and elbow propped up on the pillow next to Chuck, looking down at them, “What about you, huh? What did the little cherub-faced Beverly Charlton want to be when they grew up?”

Between one breath and the next, Chuck gets a faraway look in their eye—almost like they weren’t expecting to have their own question sent back around. Knowing them, they maybe weren’t.

Teddy watches their lashes flutter, something somber pulling across their face like a wave. For a moment, she’s worried she shouldn’t have pulled the full name out, even in jest—but then Chuck is swallowing harshly and taking a breath.

Their eyes stay trained on the ceiling past Teddy’s head when they say, “Loved, I think,”

Teddy feels her own expression collapse, a wounded sound in her throat.

Then, with a with a gasp of a breath through their nose, it’s like Chuck comes back to themself; sitting upright so suddenly they almost collide with Teddy.

Chuckling awkwardly, they clear their throat, “Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t—I didn’t mean… um. Didn’t mean for that to sound so pathetic,”

Teddy doesn’t like that Chuck’s back is to her.

“Chuck,” she says.

Chuck hesitates for a moment before peering sheepishly back over their shoulder.

Teddy gives her best pleading eyes and pout, sets her glass on the nightstand with her coursework, and just reaches her newly freed hand out to Chuck, wiggling her fingers for good measure.

Chuck looks a little watery, but it seems like that’s all the permission they need before they’re collapsing back down at Teddy’s side, letting her arrange the two of them however she pleases.

They’ve done this enough over the years for it to not be too odd, as long as she doesn’t think about it too hard. How much she likes having Chuck close like this. How Chuck lets her, every time. So Teddy tucks them together, back to chest, arms wrapped around Chuck’s middle. Reaches over them to fumble with the lamp to turn out one of the two dim lights they’d had on, and settles.

They lay quietly for a while, just breathing, before Teddy finds the courage to murmur, sleepy and slow to the back of Chuck’s neck, “You did too,”

A beat of quiet. Then Chuck hums in question.

“You said I grew up to be the thing I wanted to be as a kid,” Teddy mumbles, teetering on the edge of sleep, “You did too,”

Chuck doesn’t say anything else, but Teddy feels the sniffle in their chest, and she doesn’t say anything either. Just squeezes a little tighter, and lets sleep come for them both.

[seitmai]

He should be sitting at your bedside, like men did when the women they loved were injured. Instead, he stood by the window. His gaze was fixed on the leafless silhouettes of the tree branches outside, drawn there because if he was looking at them he wasn’t looking at you, swathed in bandages and draped in sheets that bore an unsettling resemblance to a shroud. 

He cant even bear to sit beside her🥺

The machine noisily breathed for you. He’d grown so used to its rhythmic—whoosh, thump…pause… hiss—that the sounds faded into the background. Looking at your reflection in the glass was easier than actually looking at you. It softened the bruises that had deformed your features and hid the traction splint on your left lower leg. But the ventilator’s whir was a constant reminder that a machine was all that stood between you and death.

💔💔💔

“You look like hell.” “Thanks.” “Go home. Take a hot shower and a couple Benadryl. Once you’ve slept, you’ll feel better.” “Will I?” He’d been aiming for sarcasm but a waver of apprehension snuck into his voice instead.

Valid question at this point lol

 Recent events had solidified one fact—whatever this relationship was, it wasn’t casual. Not anymore. He couldn’t deny it, not when he’d spent days by your bedside, received updates from your family, and been added to your list of emergency contacts. The lack of questioning about his presence from either of your parents symbolized how entrenched your relationship had become. Vivian likely played a role in that, but it reinforced the same point: he was more than just your friend. What exactly he was remained unexamined as of yet, but it was only a matter of time.

I think they both knew for a while this wasn't casual anymore but both were too scared to bring it up..

He wasn’t blind to the fact that the age gap was part of what had drawn you to him. You’d wanted sexual experience, and he had plenty to offer. His sophistication and confidence were traits you appreciated in him, even as a friend. Sometimes he wondered if it was him you were drawn to, or the feeling of security he provided. You’d had too many responsibilities handed to you too early. He was good at taking charge. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where the attraction stemmed from. Doubt gnawed at him. Did you want him, or did you just want someone competent, who made you feel safe? He wasn’t the only man who could meet those needs. Lloyd wished he could pretend otherwise, but he couldn’t see how both your futures could coexist in the long term.

Oh no he is getting into his head..🫣

Lloyd pulled out his phone and pretended to be occupied. The nurses quickly exited the shop after their orders were filled, but they’d given his thoughts a new path to wander down. There was a good chance that you’d want a family someday, given how healthy and tight-knit yours was. You were good with children. The idea of you not being a mother was somehow unfathomable to him. A chill ran down his spine. He could easily imagine the same story he’d just overheard being told about him. 

😬😬😬

What if you asked him for a baby? Would he be able to deny you what you wanted, even knowing the risks? He winced. No. He couldn’t be a father. He didn’t have the temperament for it, nor the energy it demanded.

Let's not think that way, princess needs to recover first and then an open conversation would probably help..

You deserved to be with someone who could give you the full experience of parenthood—someone younger, willing to endure sleepless nights, with the stamina to chase after a toddler. He couldn’t picture himself running after a child at his current age, let alone keeping up with a teenager. By the time your child graduated high school, he’d be at least sixty, if not older. You needed someone with more life ahead of them than he had to offer.

Age is just a number 🤷🏻‍♀️

He wished he didn’t have to think of these unpleasant things, that time could freeze everything as it was and your relationship could stay vague and undefined forever, but time marched on and there was no escaping the truth. Being with him came at a cost, and you’d already paid the price.

Oh this is gonna eat him up from the inside out..

 “It’s one less addiction to manage,” Lloyd said. 

Valid

“How many twenty-five-year olds vape? Eat a diet of pure junk food? You’re healthier right now than most younger men could dream of being. Hell, you’re drinking tea.”  Lloyd scoffed. “I don’t drink coffee so I’m off the hook?” “And you eat turkey bacon, which is pathetic and un-American, but to each their own. Seriously, if it’s bothering you, get your sperm tested.” “Checking it right now wouldn’t matter much. Princess and I are in different places in life. By the time she’s ready to have kids…” Lloyd trailed off. 

Good god Lloyd he just want to help you get your head out of your ass 🥴

“Deposit it at a sperm bank, they’ll put it on ice for later. Of course that’d take all the fun out of things, but it heads off the worst-case scenario.” 

Halleluja for Zach , at least one person that can think straight right now and points out some alternatives 🙏🏻

Somehow, Joe Hansen had crawled out of the grave and back up to the land of the living. There was no mistaking that face. The deep purple circles under his eyes, the dry, reddened skin partially hidden by a heavy five o’clock shadow, and bloodshot eyes from too much whiskey left Lloyd paralyzed for a moment. When his mind kicked back into gear, his first thought was almost smug: I knew you were too mean to die. But when he looked over his shoulder, there was no one behind him. Zach had stepped out to take a phone call. The shop was empty. His gaze turned back to the reflection. The eyes weren’t brown. They were crystal blue.  It wasn’t Joe. It was him. 

Uff that must be harrowing, but maybe also a little bit of a wakeup call

Chapter 29

The Princess & the Lawyer

Summary: In the aftermath of the incident, Lloyd grapples with his emotions and begins to wonder about their future.

Word Count: 4,605  

Warnings: Mention of adult content such as sex and drug use. Non-explicit references to child abuse, which is made clear by a character’s reactions and implied by their internal reflection, but not discussed in specific or graphic terms.

Author’s Note: Thank you for coming back to read this, despite my long absence! Full Author’s Note can be found here.

Masterlist 

Lloyd wasn’t where he should be. 

He should be sitting at your bedside, like men did when the women they loved were injured. Instead, he stood by the window. His gaze was fixed on the leafless silhouettes of the tree branches outside, drawn there because if he was looking at them he wasn’t looking at you, swathed in bandages and draped in sheets that bore an unsettling resemblance to a shroud. 

Injured felt like too plain of a word to describe your condition. You’d rammed a car head-on into a concrete barrier at high speed and a moment later, Westin Tafferty had shot you in the head at close range. The doctors said the bullet had grazed your parietal bone and fractured your skull, triggering internal bleeding. Within minutes of arriving at the hospital you’d been rushed into the operating room for an emergent craniotomy.

Now, you were sedated in a coma and no one could say if the surgery had been successful or not. The carefully titrated medications flowing through your I.V. masked any sign of improvement or deterioration. As long as the sedatives infused, you remained trapped in a stasis where no one could tell if you were healing or slipping away. Until they dialed back the drugs the state of suspension would persist. He’d asked, but no one was willing to estimate when they’d begin tapering off the medication–or if that was even part of the plan. 

Behind him, the ventilator hissed. Lloyd twisted his neck, trying to ease the tension as his eyes drifted over the landscape. Your room overlooked the courtyard, which wasn’t much to see, especially after the weekend’s turn in the weather. Skeletal tree branches stretched toward the sky, stripped bare by last night’s windstorm, which had brought in an unexpected cold front that settled into a hard frost. Just yesterday, the leaves had been turning yellow. Today they were scattered in a thick carpet over the grass. Your day nurse had told him it was the earliest frost since 1979. Lloyd hadn’t offered a response. 

In fact, he’d barely registered her remark at all. Information hadn’t been sticking in his mind lately. Between the car accident, the shooting, and the discovery that Westin Tafferty had been stalking you all along, his brain had short-circuited. The machinery in his head was broken. Synapses fired sluggishly, like a circuit board trying to transmit a signal through frayed wires. His thoughts flickered, dimmed, then disappeared.

He twisted his neck and scanned to the left, his gaze colliding with a reflection in the glass. The image was distorted but he could make out your form lying in the hospital bed directly behind him. Monitors were packed around your bed. A screen displayed your vitals, another showed wavy lines related to breathing, and one monitored intracranial pressure. A drain connected to your skull through a thin tube—that was a left over from the operation. He’d been curious about it but hadn’t asked. After two days in the ICU, he’d learned it was sometimes better not to know. On the other side of the bed, an infusion pump was hooked to the I.V. in your forearm, along with a ventilator.

The machine noisily breathed for you. He’d grown so used to its rhythmic—whoosh, thump…pause… hiss—that the sounds faded into the background. Looking at your reflection in the glass was easier than actually looking at you. It softened the bruises that had deformed your features and hid the traction splint on your left lower leg. But the ventilator’s whir was a constant reminder that a machine was all that stood between you and death. Lloyd inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. He took a long breath, drawing the air in deep to ease the sudden wave of nausea. His phone buzzed.

Expecting it was your mother or Vivian, Lloyd fished the device out of his pocket. The message was from an unsaved number.

I’m at the nurse’s station. Which hallway should I take?

Lloyd frowned and scrolled through the messages. He’d exchanged about a dozen texts with this number over the weekend, the details of which were fuzzy in his memory. It took some scrolling to realize the number belonged to Jen Kyzansky. Right. He remembered now. Jen had promised she’d stop by after work and it was five o’clock. He’d asked her to visit after an exchange with your day nurse, who confirmed that coma patients could sometimes hear people. Not always—but in some cases. 

He could barely stand to look at you in this condition, let alone speak, so he’d called in reinforcements. For all his personal dislike of the woman he was supremely confident in her ability to carry on a one-sided conversation. She would keep it positive and upbeat and talk about things you’d enjoy. You needed Jen right now, not him. 

He sent instructions to guide her through the maze of hallways and stepped outside the glass booth the ICU considered a “room” to wait for her arrival. A moment later, someone carrying a giant vase of flowers rounded the corner. Though he couldn’t see the person’s upper half, he recognized the tailored oxblood trousers. Jen shifted the flowers to her hip to read the room placards. Before he could call out, she spotted him and picked up the pace. When she was an arm’s length away she stopped, her gaze sweeping up and down his form. 

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t smirk, as he’d expected. “When was the last time you slept?”

Lloyd shrugged. He tried to sneer–after all, it was the customary greeting between him and Jen–but his features wouldn’t cooperate. To his dismay, her expression softened into something that looked suspiciously like sympathy.

“Go home. Take a hot shower and a couple Benadryl. Once you’ve slept, you’ll feel better.”

“Will I?” He’d been aiming for sarcasm but a waver of apprehension snuck into his voice instead. 

Her chin lifted. “Yes, you will. Call someone to drive you home, or at least drink some coffee. Driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.” 

Lloyd obeyed. At the end of the hall, he glanced back to see Jen sitting beside your bed. Jealousy cut through him. It was irrational, given that he had all afternoon to do what Jen was doing now, but unfortunately he couldn’t look at you for more than thirty seconds without wanting to throw himself off the roof. 

At the elevator bank his gaze drifted to the window as he waited for the car. It offered a different perspective on the same barren trees he’d stared at from your room. In a few months they’d be reborn, sprouting new buds and leafing out. Nature healed itself, even after the most brutal storms. He had no such ability. His wounds didn’t heal; they stayed with him, out of sight, but always festering under the surface. Lloyd scrubbed a hand over his face. Wallowing in self-pity didn’t do you any good. It wasn’t good for him, either, as painful emotions tended to corrode his self-control. He could feel the chaos welling up and worried that he wouldn’t be able to contain it much longer. The stitches of his composure were straining, threatening to tear apart. 

How could he ever support you if he couldn’t control his own emotions? He’d sent Jen in as his substitute for a task as basic as sitting by your bed and talking. He was useless—he couldn’t even look at you! You needed him right now, and he couldn't even look at you. He was a coward, and not because of the fear, but because he was letting it dictate his actions.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The elevator took him down to the lobby. As Jen suggested, he stopped by the coffee shop and ordered a London Fog. It was late afternoon, and aside from him and the barista, the shop was empty. That made sense. At five o’clock on a Monday most people were still at work, stuck in traffic, or picking up their kids.

Nothing played over the speakers and the weight of the silence pressed down on him. Lloyd sat down at a table to wait. He listened to the hum of the espresso machine, the soft clatter of metal instruments as the barista stirred his tea. His thoughts drifted back upstairs, comparing the quiet sounds of the coffee shop to the symphony of whirling, hissing, and beeping that filled your room. If you were here, you’d have ordered something so sugary and caffeinated that it ought to come with a Surgeon General’s warning. 

“Lloyd, your London Fog,” the barista called.

He collected his drink and turned to face a jarring sight—a group of nurses gathered in a loose semi-circle on the other side of the glass partition separating the shop from the hallway. They all wore the same unmistakable shade of green. Over the past few days, he’d learned the color coding system of the hospital’s scrubs: navy blue for ICU nurses, burgundy for lab techs, pale blue for surgical staff, and a garish shade of sea-foam green that identified this group as trauma nurses. His grip tightened around the cup, the heat seeping through the paper doing nothing to thaw the sudden chill in his fingers. The sight of the trauma nurses triggered a flood of memories, sharp and uninvited. 

The drive into the city. Detective Roth’s hands tight on the steering wheel as he wove through traffic. The flashing dash lights in the silent car, no wail of sirens overhead because those were only for official emergencies…Walking past the destroyed trauma bay, its floor littered with the debris of plastic packaging and soiled gauze, as a gray scrubbed man mopped blood off linoleum tiles. Meeting your parents in the waiting room of the surgical suite. The doctor entering, asking if anyone was ready to see you. Your mother, crying, too distraught to accompany your father to the post-anesthesia unit… Vivian suggesting Lloyd go with him instead…

Dishes clattered in the sink, snapping him back to the present. Lloyd pulled his gaze from the nurses and moved to a table, deliberately facing away from them, but the image of those green scrubs lingered in his mind.

For the past seventy-two hours, he’d clung to the hope that you would wake up, that somehow you’d shake off a traumatic brain injury as if it were nothing more than a common cold. The sheer absurdity of such magical thinking grated on his nerves, but he couldn’t stop the optimistic thought from creeping in. Being irrational didn’t change the facts, though, and two days later your diagnosis remained unchanged: critical but stable.

The word “stable” circled in his mind. He rolled the word silently over his tongue, as if repeating it would make it easier to accept. Stable meant things weren’t getting worse, but it didn’t mean they were getting better either. It was a fragile reassurance, one that only made him more anxious the longer he sat with it. The fact that you were stable didn’t offer any hint of what came next, whether you’d recover or languish in this state forever. Instead of easing his fears, the thought of your impending recovery opened up an uncomfortable set of questions, chief among them: where did your relationship go from here? 

Recent events had solidified one fact—whatever this relationship was, it wasn’t casual. Not anymore. He couldn’t deny it, not when he’d spent days by your bedside, received updates from your family, and been added to your list of emergency contacts. The lack of questioning about his presence from either of your parents symbolized how entrenched your relationship had become. Vivian likely played a role in that, but it reinforced the same point: he was more than just your friend. What exactly he was remained unexamined as of yet, but it was only a matter of time.

There was an eighteen year age gap between you. While he’d packed for college, you’d turned two weeks old. Your future was filled with hope and potential, any path was open and ready to be explored whenever you craved something more. He’d wasted his future already, thrown it away on bad decisions, mental instability, and addiction. The gap between you wasn’t just measured in years but also by directions; your lives were moving along different paths. You had spent this spring considering your options for law school and Lloyd had mapped out a tax-efficient withdrawal plan for his retirement funds. 

He wasn’t blind to the fact that the age gap was part of what had drawn you to him. You’d wanted sexual experience, and he had plenty to offer. His sophistication and confidence were traits you appreciated in him, even as a friend. Sometimes he wondered if it was him you were drawn to, or the feeling of security he provided. You’d had too many responsibilities handed to you too early. He was good at taking charge. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where the attraction stemmed from. Doubt gnawed at him. Did you want him, or did you just want someone competent, who made you feel safe? He wasn’t the only man who could meet those needs. Lloyd wished he could pretend otherwise, but he couldn’t see how both your futures could coexist in the long term.

The chime of the door announced the admission of two new patrons to the coffee shop. A pair of nurses in pink scrubs entered, giggling at some private joke as they formed a queue at the counter. Labor and delivery nurses, Lloyd guessed, judging by their uniforms. Their conversation quickly confirmed his assumption and in the tight confines of the shop, he couldn’t help but overhear them. 

“I almost called him her dad,” the brunette said. “He’s like three times her age, it's the obvious way to go!”

“Melanie flagged the chart with a note.” 

“Yeah, but by the time I saw it the word ‘dad’ was already halfway out of my mouth.” 

“You really called him her Dad?!”

“I tried to change it to Dale. The transition was not smooth. Not at all. They stared at me like I was crazy. Then I made up some B.S. about how he looks like a Dale—”

Her friend snickered. “Girl…”

“Shut up! The man has white hair! He’s lucky I didn’t call him Grandpa.”

The other shook her head. “Can you imagine having a kid with a guy that old?”

“No thanks. You?”

“Pfft, absolutely not.” She wrinkled her nose. 

“Neither of them thought this through. The risk isn’t worth it.” 

“Hell no,” her friend agreed. “The odds of all that scary genetic crap is like six times as high with fathers over forty.”

“What about fathers over eighty?” the brunette giggled. 

“You know it’s harder for guys to get someone pregnant once they’re over forty?”

“It’s like nature’s way of cutting the old timers off.” 

“Not if they’re persistent!”

They both laughed. 

Lloyd pulled out his phone and pretended to be occupied. The nurses quickly exited the shop after their orders were filled, but they’d given his thoughts a new path to wander down. There was a good chance that you’d want a family someday, given how healthy and tight-knit yours was. You were good with children. The idea of you not being a mother was somehow unfathomable to him. A chill ran down his spine. He could easily imagine the same story he’d just overheard being told about him. 

It wasn’t wise to become a father after a certain age, Lloyd mused. He cringed and shook himself, disturbed by the seriousness of the thought. There was no reason to consider such things. He had decided long ago that he didn’t want children. The Hansen line would end with him, and there would be no heir to carry on the family curse.

His mind drifted to Zach’s comment about vasectomies and his insinuation that Lloyd was keeping his options open by not getting snipped. Suddenly, that accusation hit too close to home. Being in a relationship with a much younger woman opened the door to that possibility, and you’d both been complacent by relying on only one form of birth control for the past few months.

What if you asked him for a baby? Would he be able to deny you what you wanted, even knowing the risks? He winced. No. He couldn’t be a father. He didn’t have the temperament for it, nor the energy it demanded.

You deserved to be with someone who could give you the full experience of parenthood—someone younger, willing to endure sleepless nights, with the stamina to chase after a toddler. He couldn’t picture himself running after a child at his current age, let alone keeping up with a teenager. By the time your child graduated high school, he’d be at least sixty, if not older. You needed someone with more life ahead of them than he had to offer.

Maybe you didn’t want children. For a moment, the thought sparked a flood of relief. But guilt came fast on its heels, crushing the tiny flicker of hope. How could he even think that? It wasn’t his decision to make. He had no right to wish you’d give up something as fundamental as motherhood just to accommodate his shortcomings. You might be willing to accept the limitations brought on by his age and past, but he couldn’t ask that of you. Your future didn’t need to be burdened by his realities. 

He wished he didn’t have to think of these unpleasant things, that time could freeze everything as it was and your relationship could stay vague and undefined forever, but time marched on and there was no escaping the truth. Being with him came at a cost, and you’d already paid the price. If not for your friendship with him, Court Gentry never would have known your name. If Lloyd hadn’t turned down Court’s request for help—not once, but twice—you wouldn’t have been drawn into his reckless scheme to expose the spy at Bishop & Howard. 

Then there was Westin Tafferty. His grudge against Lloyd had made you a target. Without that connection, Tafferty wouldn’t have spent months harassing and stalking you. He wouldn’t have tried to kill you. The worst part was that Lloyd still couldn’t remember meeting him; whether Tafferty hadn’t made much of an impression or Lloyd had been too high to recall their introduction was up for debate. But Zach had confirmed the truth: Tafferty had spent twenty years working for the NSA and he’d crossed paths with Lloyd on more than one occasion. Detective Diskant had recovered the flash drive you’d hidden and spent the weekend piecing things together. There was plenty of evidence, enough for three life sentences, but Tafferty had vanished.

Even forgotten memories from his past haunted him—and by extension, you. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t untangle the past from the present. You’d had a brush with his past in Singapore, then again in Qatar. Apparently, those close calls hadn’t been warning enough, because this time the consequences had really caught up and now there was a machine breathing for you. 

Lloyd’s tea had gone cold, but he was still deep in thought when Zach entered the coffee shop. His leather jacket creaked, stiff from the cold, as he sat down in the opposite chair. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Zach said, unzipping his jacket. He regarded Lloyd with a knowing gaze. “You look like you’re plotting something. Care to share?”

“I’m not plotting anything.” 

Zach’s eyebrow twitched, and Lloyd sighed, amending his statement. 

“Not now at least.” 

Zach leaned back in his seat, lacing his hands behind his head. “Alright.” 

Lloyd grunted, picked up his tea and sipped, wincing at the bitter taste. 

“Is that tea?”

“Yes.”

“Disgusting.”

“It’s one less addiction to manage,” Lloyd said. 

“Mmmhhh.” 

Silence fell. Zach didn’t speak. He maintained the same relaxed posture but his eyes watched Lloyd with the intensity of a hawk watching a mouse. It was a pressure tactic that worked wonders in the interrogation room. Lloyd disliked having it used on him and felt ridiculous for wanting to fill the lingering silence, yet the thoughts bouncing around in his head had to go somewhere. He weighed the risks and decided that Zach was the safest option.

“Do you ever think about…kids?”  

Zach braced his elbows on the table. “No. I settled that issue a long time ago.” 

Lloyd rubbed his jaw, scowling at the itchiness of the three-day stubble he hadn’t found time to shave off. 

“Nurses were just in here talking about congenital issues with older fathers, the odds of it and such, that’s all.” 

Zach waved his hand. “You’re borrowing trouble.” 

“I’m not saying I want kids,” Lloyd rushed to clarify. 

“Spare me the bullshit. Let’s talk about it. You’re twisting yourself up over statistics without considering the rest of the picture.”

“What do you mean?”

“How many Gulf War vets, who were exposed to God-knows-what in Kuwait, had kids? And most of them were fine, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’ve researched it for decades and still can’t find a strong link. Genetic problems depend on a lot of factors.” 

He must not have looked persuaded because Zach continued. 

“How many twenty-five-year olds vape? Eat a diet of pure junk food? You’re healthier right now than most younger men could dream of being. Hell, you’re drinking tea.” 

Lloyd scoffed. “I don’t drink coffee so I’m off the hook?”

“And you eat turkey bacon, which is pathetic and un-American, but to each their own. Seriously, if it’s bothering you, get your sperm tested.”

“Do what?”

“Get your sperm tested,” Zach said, as casually as if he were reminding Lloyd to check his tire pressure. 

“Sperm testing? They do that?”

“Yeah. I had mine tested before and after my vasectomy.”

“Checking it right now wouldn’t matter much. Princess and I are in different places in life. By the time she’s ready to have kids…” Lloyd trailed off. 

“Deposit it at a sperm bank, they’ll put it on ice for later. Of course that’d take all the fun out of things, but it heads off the worst-case scenario.” 

Lloyd let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as Zach’s logic cut through his spiraling. 

“Get your head on straight and focus on what you can control,” Zach said. 

“Which would be?”

The blond man’s face turned serious. “I have news.” 

Lloyd arched his brow. 

“Westin is dead.” 

“Since when?” 

“His body was found this afternoon—a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.”

Disgust hit first, followed by a surge of regret that twisted into concern. The disgust came from the fact that he hadn’t brought about Westin’s death by his own hand. Regret came from knowing, intuitively, how Westin’s death had played out. His eyes locked with Zach’s who read the unspoken assumption in them.. 

“I didn’t do it.”

“The others?” 

“No.”

“What about…”

“Possible,” Zach said. “No one knows where Gentry disappeared to, but I have a source that thinks he’s still in the city.”

“I might have something on that.”

“Care to share?”

“No.” 

“I take it you’re going to try and talk to him one-on-one?”

“Maybe.”

Zach snorted. “Because that went so well last time around.”

“Has anyone claimed the body?”

“No. They asked Bishop to identify him. Diskant said the scene was clean. There were no fingerprints other than Westin’s on the gun.” 

“There are still loose threads,” Lloyd said. 

“If you mean Aiden, he’s been arrested. Bishop has a friend at the district attorneys’ who says he’s going to be charged with espionage tomorrow.”

“Not the loose thread I was thinking of, but that’s good to hear.” 

“Tell me where the other loose thread is and I’ll take care of it,” Zach offered. 

“No. He’s worth more to us alive than dead.”

”Are you up to talking to him? Because you look like shit.” 

Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Screw you.” 

He shoved back from the table, snagged his empty cup and headed for the trash can. At the counter, he was about to toss it when something in the gleaming back panel of the espresso machine caught his eye. His blood froze at the sight of a familiar face staring back at him.

Joe. 

Somehow, Joe Hansen had crawled out of the grave and back up to the land of the living. There was no mistaking that face. The deep purple circles under his eyes, the dry, reddened skin partially hidden by a heavy five o’clock shadow, and bloodshot eyes from too much whiskey left Lloyd paralyzed for a moment. When his mind kicked back into gear, his first thought was almost smug: I knew you were too mean to die. But when he looked over his shoulder, there was no one behind him. Zach had stepped out to take a phone call. The shop was empty. His gaze turned back to the reflection. The eyes weren’t brown. They were crystal blue. 

It wasn’t Joe. It was him. 

He hadn’t shaved since Friday and had the scruff to prove it. A sleepless weekend explained the bloodshot eyes and dark circles. The wind and cold, combined with neglect of his skincare routine, had stripped his skin raw, leaving it cracked and red like a drunk’s. He looked as if he’d gone on a three-day bender instead of spending the weekend in a hospital room. He looked like Joe Hansen—even more so than usual. 

Lloyd stared at the reflection until his eyes couldn’t focus anymore. It didn’t make a difference. The image was burned into his brain. It wasn’t just their physical resemblance, it went deeper. The need for control, the volcanic temper. The chaos he’d spent his whole life trying to keep at bay. He crumpled up his cup and tossed it into the canister with more force than he’d meant to. A heavy weight settled in his chest. No matter how hard he tried to outrun it, Joe’s blood still ran in his veins. He’d rather die than admit it, but the truth, that he and Joe were fruit of the same tree, was inescapable. 

He stepped out of the coffee shop into the cold. Its icy bite was nothing compared to the pain of the knowledge that was sinking into his bones. He couldn’t keep you in his life, not in good conscience, not knowing the evil that lurked inside of him. The leaves crunched under his feet and the sound was like a physical reminder: nothing lasts forever. Your relationship had already stretched long beyond its season. No matter how much he wished otherwise, soon the pieces of your lives would no longer fit together. You’d outgrow him. Once that happened, any attempt he made to patch up the seams would cause it to unravel further.

The revelation cleared his mind, though his heart felt ten degrees colder. His chest throbbed, but at least the mental storm that had raged for days finally broke, leaving a hollow stillness in its wake. There wasn’t a choice for him to make, only a truth for him to accept. Your relationship was temporary and it would soon draw to a close. He couldn’t risk holding you back or allowing his past to endanger you again. The facts were clear cut, black-and-white. There was a wrong decision and a right one.  If he wanted you to have the future that you deserved he had to do the right thing.

He had to break things off. Whether it broke his own heart didn’t matter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Coming Soon - Chapter XXX

Masterlist 

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Taglist: @denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess

@amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @terry2227 @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida

@mysweetlittledesire @maylaysia109 @liecastillo @unluckyevans @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @michalkasimp

@calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @namelesssav @yiiiikesmish @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038 @lokislady82 @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @thewritergremlin-rae @raven-blue3000 @samfreakingwinchester

[ace-avian]

You know as much as I like Eric in Mystreet he is the best dad out of all of them (Terry minus Michael is a close second-)

Zianna x Sylvana slaps.

Like- Zianna deserves a girlboss divorce arc (Garte was literally set up as a tyrant in mcd-) and she and Sylvana deserve to be happy.

I will not take criticism

[karamell-sweetz]

you know what guys. after this whole thing goes down, i hope we get the ACTUAL kamiyama school festival and it is a very good comparison to the first one. where we can see clearly how much mizuki has grown since that first event in january 2021, since that first school festival in middle school.

and i hope mizuki gets to have fun with her friends and can hang out with ena. and i hope ena has fun too. i hope she gets to tease akito, forge bonds with her classmates at the fried squid stall, and hopefully get roped into a dumb show with the oddballs 1 2. i hope this is ena’s pandemonium. i hope we all can have a little bit of joy and whimsy while getting to see how much the gang’s lives have changed at this point.

and i hope rui is a little worried for mizuki — i sincerely hope he is somewhere in mizu5, quietly waiting by the rooftop like he always has for her. but by the end of the schoolfes event he can look at mizuki, her whole face bright as all eight students in our little kamikou main cast gang come down from the rooftop (for one last time maybe, but we don’t talk about graduation in front of rui… unless ofc we bring it up this event) and he can say “you’ve come such a long way, haven’t you, mizuki? i’m happy for you.”

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about superheroes unfortunately

[bretonalchemist]

i NEED to expand on this 10 years later/the farmer never moved to sdv dream so here it is :

- Sebastian left and became a very successful programmer who lives in a high rise building in Zuzu City and wears suits, but he's very jaded about the world. He sneers at the optimism of his little brother, but somewhere deep inside, he misses the person he used to be.

- Alex has made it pro and he's good but he's also empty inside and he turns to alcohol to fill it up. He calls his grandparents every evening and visits them every weekend religiously. He cries into the dark once Evelyn hangs up.

- Shane has a made a few suicide attempts but Jas had a breakdown at about 13 yo and slapped the shit out of him so he's trying to get better, he stopped drinking and is going to therapy but he is living life through gritted teeth

- Sam is a semi-famous rockstar. He thinks he loves it. He doesn't. He actually doesn't really know what to do with his life now that he has reached his goal, and desperately tries to fill the hole in his heart by buying extravagant gifts for each member of his family. He's always smiling but his eyes are so, so tired

- Elliott has written several books and published none, because he lacks the confidence. He feels like his masterpiece is just at his fingertips and often spends entire nights feverishly writing. He's work drunk. His clothes and fingers are stained with ink. Willy hired him as a clerk to run the shop when he's on the sea, and that's the only money he makes, and he mostly spends it on supplies and alcohol at the saloon. He's become too thin with haunted, crazy eyes half the time.

- Harvey became the new mayor of Pelican Town when Lewis resignes for health reasons. The whole town is growing older and he feels his workload getting bigger. He feels guilty that he cannot keep al of them healthy, even if it's not a logical thought. He doesn't have the time for any hobbies anymore. He doesn't even have the time to realize that his own health is deteriorating. The man is in burnout.

- Haley also left for Zuzu City because she got noticed on social media and became a model. She's finally living the life she dreamed of, full of fancy clothes and sparkles and so so many people taking care of her without her asking. And she hates it. All of it. And she doesn't know why and it drives her crazy. She becomes hateful and angry, the cliché of an ungrateful celebrity. She doesn't dare contact her sister because she doesn't want to admit that she was right about everything, so she's alone

- Leah has moved to the farm and become a farmer. Her ex was stalking her and buying every art piece she made, so she stopped completely. She slowly started making art again, but now, every piece she finishes gives her panick attacks and she destroys them in a frenzy, crying and hyperventilating the whole time. She adopted a big german shepherd that serves as a guard dog, a farm dog and a support animal, named Minnie

- Penny created a montessori school and Pam takes kids from Zuzu City to Pelican Town so they can go to the school. She has a small classroom of 12 kids, all ages up to 10. Her mother is SO proud of her and she is happy to do wake up to go to work everyday. She still reads books in her spare time and is much more confident. But she kinda feels like she's going to become a crazy cat lady, because none of the bachelors left in Pelican Town seem interested in her. She doesn't want to seems desperate but she kinda is, the kids she takes care of make her heart twinge with pain everytime they slip up and call her "mom"

- Abigail has become a tattoo artist, she set up her shop in the community center and people come from far away to get her art on their skin. None of her friends are still in town, so she became buddies with Shane, who frowns at her everytime she downs a can of beer. Her parents divorced and her mother went back to her grandparents'. She still lives with Pierre, but she's old enough to realise that he is not her biological father, and that's the reason why her parents separates. She is angry about everything. She used to play the drums to release some frustration but it started not being enough, so she finally bought a sword from Marlon and went into the mines. She fights monsters when she's so angry she can't speak and her eyes seem to throw curses at people. Her body is full of callouses and scars from all her ventures into the mines. The wizard tries to approach her once but she punched him square in the nose. She is fairly sure he sometimes casts protective spells on her, she can feel her skin prickling weirdly, but it just angers her and makes her take even more risks.

- Emily has started a Youtube channel and uploads meditation, ASMR and hypnosis videos. She's built a loving community and feels like she's making a difference. But she's also losing grasp with reality. She's making enough money not to work at Gus' anymore, but she is so focused on her community that she is going out less and less

i had a dream that Fields of Mistria had an update and the map was a bit bigger, but also npcs came to visit from out of Mistria and it was the Stardew bachelors/bachelorettes !! except they were all like 10 years older, also Maru and Sebastian had a new baby brother who was like... 7 maybe ? and he followed Maru around like a duckling because he admired her so much. but Maru was so much colder, she had lost a leg and had a robotic prosthetic instead, and i was trying to uncover the story of WHAT HAPPENED ???

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew

[milo-the-professional-yapper]

I will say- despite the controversy surrounding it, I still think Hazbin has so much potential. The fandom only really knows about the first half of the season (most of it leaks out of context, at that), and multiple critic reviews have said that the show does get a lot better the more it goes on (even if they’ve technically only seen to episode 5).

That’s is why I won’t let other people dictate how I interpret the show. Especially some random person on the internet who didn’t like the show to begin with. I will watch it in full and come to my own conclusion with the writing and story direction. I know I shouldn’t be concerned with peoples opinions on the internet anyways- but, I’m usually very open to discussing criticism against something I like. For instance, there’s a few things with the creator in general I’m very much against- but that doesn’t not damper my love for the show itself. The show and the creator are two separate entities. That being said- With the amount of unnecessary hate this show also gets, I am going to take most people’s opinions of it with a grain of salt.

There’s potential here for Hazbin to be amazing- and I really do have faith in it. It may be off to a rocky start, but I think once it’s all out there- it’ll settle down. It could also be terrible- who knows? We won’t until the full season is out.

Anyways, I apologize for yapping so much. I may come back and edit this once I actually watch the full season- but right now I have a lot of hope for the future of this series. The only thing really bringing it down right now is the rampant unnecessary hate.

[littlestarbigsky]

outsiders week - johnny

@outsidersweek

in which we explore johnny’s first time meeting the curtis family ;) he has some anxiety in the beginning but it’s all okay… mama curtis i am your BIGGEST fan <33

gang i’m really proud of this one pls be nice to her❤️‍🩹

johnny realized he had made a mistake the second he stepped off the bus. the first few days of kindergarten had gone alright, and he had gotten onto the right bus and gotten off at the right stop to get home, but it had been a long day and he was tired. it didn’t help that his father had kept him up half the night shouting at him over his coloring homework. he was only six, how was he supposed to be able to do this all by himself?

he’d zoned out for a few minutes and lost track of what stop they were at, whether they had already passed his or how many more stops there were before they weren’t in his neighborhood anymore. he got off at the very next one, realizing that he wasn’t in the right place and even though all of the houses were vaguely familiar, he couldn’t remember where to turn or how to get to somewhere he recognized.

he knew his mama wouldn’t come looking for him, she thought he was too old to be getting lost, and she didn’t have to worry about feeding him if he didn’t come home in time for dinner.

he stood, stick straight and paralyzed where he was in fear, his blunt fingernails digging into his palms. as hard as he fought them, tears welled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks. he would have to get all the tears out before he got home, his parents wouldn’t be very kind about him getting lost, especially after they had explained the routine to him so many times.

“hey, is this your stop?” a voice called from behind him.

johnny didn’t answer. no, it wasn’t his stop. what if they were mean to him and tried to steal his backpack or tackled him. it wouldn’t be hard, the doctor had told his parents that he was still really small for his age. so instead of turning around and answering, johnny stayed still. he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do anything different if he wanted to.

“hello?” the voice asked again, but it hadn’t raised or gotten meaner. “did you hear?”

johnny stayed glued to the spot until another boy suddenly popped in front of him, causing him to jump back. he could feel his heart pounding in his throat and his stomach turning to lead. he was lost and now someone was gonna pound him for it, just like mama said, just like dad had threatened to if he made a fuss about it. he braced himself for a blow, would it be to his stomach, maybe his face? what if they did it the easy way out and just tackled him right off the bat?

the punch never came.

“hey,” the voice said again. “i’m not talkin’ to another deaf fella, am i?”

johnny opened his eyes. the face in front of him didn’t look mean at all. as a matter of fact, the boy in front of him was smiling, his brown eyes twinkling in the late august sunshine. he was wearing a backpack, too, and if johnny remembered correctly, they had the same teacher at school.

johnny shook his head, and the other boy sighed deeply, “thank goodness, i keep accidentally talkin’ to that old lady over on center street who can’t hear no more. mama says i really oughta be more considerate about that.”

johnny didn’t know what to say, his feet still felt rooted to the spot.

the boy tilted his head, not unlike the golden retrievers the soc families walked in the park, “you… you can talk, right?”

johnny nodded aggressively and still didn’t say a word, but with every word the boy spoke, he could feel the tension in his shoulders easing away.

“well… what’s your name?” he asked.

johnny had to open and close his mouth a few times before he could squeak out, “johnny cade.”

the boy did the same head tilt that he had done before, and johnny knew he had spoken so fast and so high-pitched that he had missed a couple of vital sounds in his name. oh, now he would have to say it again-

“wait!” the boy straightened up excitedly. “you’re in my class, right? aren’t you johnny cade?”

he nodded, and for the first time since stepping off the bus, johnny smiled.

“my name’s sodapop curtis,” the boy said proudly. “even says so on my birth certificate, but my family calls me soda.”

johnny had to stifle a giggle at the name.

“don’t laugh, sodapop isn’t any funnier than johnny cade,” soda said sadly, but when johnny went still again, soda quickly added, “but, you know, there’s nothing wrong with johnny cade. that’s just something my mama told me to say if anyone gave me a hard time about my name.”

“your mama sure sounds nice,” johnny couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, and he immediately wanted to clap a hand to his mouth as if that would put them back in so he had never said them.

soda’s eyes lit up, “she sure is! you know, she’d probably love you, you’re nice and quiet. she hasn’t got one kid that ain’t a big chatterbox. you can meet her if you wanna! we live just over there.”

johnny’s eyes followed to where soda was pointing, landing on a house that seemed rather worse for wear, but in their neighborhood, that was pretty average, anyways. still, there were toys in the yard and the front door was held open by a painted rock. it seemed so welcoming, and soda’s mama had sounded so nice.

johnny still shook his head, “i have to get home.”

“oh, that’s right,” soda bent down to tie one of his shoes. “i’ve never seen you get off here, do you live around here too?”

“sort of,” johnny felt his cheeks getting hot. “i lost track of the stops and… i don’t know… it’s alright. i’ll find it.”

soda seemed to be getting even more excited, “mama can help you if you need! i can bring you over to meet her and she can help you get home!”

johnny thought he might cry, or maybe he’d be sick. he wasn’t sure which one would be worse, nor was he sure if it would be out of relief or fear. he tried not to think about it as he fell into step next to soda.

“mama! i brought someone!” soda called as he let johnny into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind him.

a blonde, kind-faced woman stuck her head out of the kitchen to see her son walking in. before johnny could get a good look at soda’s mama, another little boy came sprinting into the room. he had fuzzy, light brown hair, which was all johnny could catch a glimpse of before the boy had jumped on soda, hugging him as tight as he could. johnny had to laugh as he took in the little boy, he was probably a couple of years younger than they were. he was wearing a pair of blue swim trunks that were obviously too big, judging by how tightly they were tied, and he had a smile that could sink a thousand ships. he opened startlingly grey eyes to blink at johnny over soda’s shoulder and tilted his head in the same way his brother had.

“this is johnny cade,” soda explained, setting the boy down. “he’s my new friend from the bus! johnny cade, this is my little brother, ponyboy.”

“hi,” ponyboy said shyly, wringing his hands together nervously.

“hi,” johnny squeaked out.

“hi,” came a new, warmer voice. johnny’s head whipped up and landed on the woman who had poked her head out of the kitchen.

up close, johnny could only describe her as a sunflower come to life. she had curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes, just like soda. everything about her radiated warmth and comfort, and johnny felt safe in a way he never had before.

“you’re johnny?” she asked, and johnny nodded. “it’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

johnny felt like he was supposed to say something, but he was saved the trouble when another boy walking into the room, taller and obviously older, and wearing his own pair of swim trunks.

“pony, i told you, we have to wait for soda before we can go!” he was calling.

“soda’s home, darry!” pony cried excitedly.

soda’s mama got down on her knees so she was level with johnny and smiled at him and soda, “ponyboy and darry were about to go play in the sprinkler outside. how would you two feel about going with them?”

soda’s eyes lit up, “of course! lemme go change!”

“i-” johnny looked down at his clothes and back up, feeling shattered.

she looked over at her eldest, “oh, right. darry, could you go grab something for johnny to wear?”

darry nodded and all of the boys disappeared into a room down the hallway, leaving him alone with their mother

johnny felt himself wanting to speak and it felt wrong, he didn’t know where the want had come from. there was a smile on his face, which maybe felt even more alien. he clearly looked excited, but the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. he had to get home. he was here because soda said his mama could help him get directions to get back home. this wasn’t his mama. it wasn’t like his would care when he got home…

“you think that’s an okay plan? gotta keep you kids busy while i make a snack,” she asked him, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

johnny couldn’t open his mouth to ask her how to get home. he knew he had to, and that his dad may beat his head in for getting home late, or maybe not even notice at all, but he wanted to stay. he wanted to have fun with soda.

he decided he had to be brave, though, “i… i got off at the wrong bus stop. i don’t know how to get home…”

“that’s alright, honey, do you want me to help you get home?” she asked him kindly. johnny realized where soda and ponyboy had gotten their head tilt from. “or would you like to stay and play here for a little while and then we can take you home? it’s up to you.”

his stomach turned over, things had never been up to him, “…don’t wanna bug you.”

“you’re not buggin’ me!” she smiled, and it was like johnny was being bathed in sunlight. “darry and soda bring their friends over here all the time! you are welcome here as long as you want to stay, sweetheart.”

johnny felt something loosen in his chest, something that felt like hope bubbling in his stomach.

“so,” she asked him again. “how would you like or stay here and play with the boys?”

johnny nodded excitedly, and she ruffled his hair gently. for the first time that day, he didn’t care what his parents would say when he got home or that he had messed up so terribly getting off at the wrong stop.

soda came back into the room with darry, who handed johnny a swimsuit and ushered him to the bathroom to change. it didn’t fit him perfectly, he actually got the distinct impression that it might have been ponyboy’s, but it would do just fine. he folded his clothes up and held them to his chest as he quietly left the bathroom.

“here, you give me those and i’ll run them through the wash, i’ve already got a load going,” mrs. curtis took the bundle from him.

soda sprinted over, grabbed his hand, and hauled him out of the house at a run. darry had already gotten the sprinkler going outside in the yard and ponyboy was running around, trying to avoid the spray as it tilted back and forth.

“come on, johnny!” soda pulled him forward and they both jumped directly over the sprinkler.

they lost track of how long they had been playing, making up games and running through the water to their heart’s content until all of them looked like they had just climbed out of a swimming pool. johnny’s cheeks were aching from smiling so big for so long, his stomach tight from laughing so hard.

it was at least an hour before mrs. curtis came outside with an armful of towels to collect them, shouting that she had a snack ready for them. all of her sons ran towards her, grabbing a towel and sitting down on the porch to munch on the sandwich tray she had left out. johnny lingered, his arms wrapping around his middle.

she caught his eye and waved him over, “you, too, johnny! c’mere.”

he walked over to her nervously, and she knelt down in front of him and used the last towel in her hands to dry some of the water from his face and hair and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders.

“don’t want a sweet little thing like you to get cold. now, go eat something, i’ll send the leftovers home with you,” she smiled, pushing his dripping hair back and out of his face. johnny didn’t normally like it when people called him little, but he didn’t seem to mind when she said it.

“thank you!” johnny beamed, waddling over to the rest of the boys munching on their snack and laughing together, their eyes dancing as they let the sun dry them.